


All I Wanted

by Ely



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Childhood Friends, Death, Funeral, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Spoilers, Unrequited Yooseven
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 06:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10610943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ely/pseuds/Ely
Summary: Saeran had always seemed like the only real and solid thing in Yoosung's life... the one thing that grounded him. He helped piece him back together whenever he fell apart, and it was messy and imperfect, but it was all Yoosung could be.





	

**Author's Note:**

> based on one specific line in the song [All I Wanted](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W7nmB20qJv4) by Paramore  
> thanks to [Mercurians](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Mercurians/pseuds/Mercurians) for reading through this for me when I wasn't too sure about it  
> (tbh, I'm still not 100% sure I like it, but I may as well post it anyway)

**I. Saeran**

 

Yoosung had known Saeran for as long as he could remember. He’d also known Saeyoung for a fairly long time in a totally separate way, but it took him far too long to figure out that they were, in fact, related. He’d always thought they looked similar, but for some reason his head had never properly connected the two of them. Most of the world felt like some kind of weird, abstract blur, especially since his cousin had died, so he wasn’t particularly good at observation. Saeran had always felt like the only real and solid thing in his life… the one thing that grounded him.

He met Saeyoung at Rika’s funeral two years ago. He had some kind of connection to her boyfriend, V. He supposed that was probably why it had taken him so long to piece together that they were siblings, despite them looking so similar. The time he had met Saeyoung was the time Yoosung’s world had started crumbling, becoming more like some kind of messy watercolour painting that had no solid shape and less like the life he was used to. The colours dripped and flowed into each other so all Yoosung could make out were vague shapes and feelings that he couldn’t quite place or connect with reality. This was also the time he started hanging out with Saeran more. Saeran had always been his rock. His shield. He’d always been there whenever Yoosung needed him without questioning it, and Yoosung would never be able to thank him enough for everything he’d done. Yoosung knew that without him he would have fallen apart entirely. Saeran helped piece him back together, and it was messy and imperfect, but it was all Yoosung could be. He couldn’t have done it alone.

Since the funeral, Yoosung had also become fairly close friends with Saeyoung. They started spending more time together, but he was nowhere near as close to him as he was with Saeran. Saeran was his best friend. Which is why he went to Saeran first when it finally clicked in his brain that they were related.

“Is your real eye colour gold?” Yoosung had suddenly asked him one day. They were at Yoosung’s apartment hanging out, which is something they did almost every day. Saeran blinked up at him in surprise, sticking a finger into the book he was reading so he didn’t lose his place.

“What?”

“Your eyes aren’t really green, are they?” Yoosung hoped he sounded casual. He tapped his pen on his notebook as he attempted to do his homework, but the words were swimming before his eyes. When he looked at Saeran, he was solid. It was calming to have something so strong to cling onto when the entire world felt as though it was falling apart. Saeran bit his lip a little and pushed his red hair out of his eyes. Yoosung liked it when he did that.

“No,” Saeran finally replied. “No, they’re not.”

There was a short silence filled with nothing but Yoosung’s whirring thoughts.

“Do you have a brother?” he asked, and he watched as Saeran’s eyebrows shot up.

“What?”

“A brother. I… I have a friend who looks a lot like you,” Yoosung explained, suddenly feeling nervous.

“I…” Saeran started to say, but then his sentence trailed off. He was never someone who spoke a lot, and usually Yoosung had to fill most of the silence with talking.

“He’s called Saeyoung Choi,” Yoosung told him, studying him closely to try and catch his reaction. As it turned out, he didn’t _need_ to study him closely, because Saeran’s entire expression morphed into one of disgust.

“Oh,” Saeran said in a monotonous voice. “I didn’t realise you knew him.”

“Do you… do you not like each other?” Yoosung asked in confusion. Of all the reactions he’d expected, this hadn’t been one of them.

“We haven’t spoken in years.”

“What?” Yoosung blurted out. “Why not?”

“We don’t get along,” Saeran said, opening his book again. His body language told Yoosung the conversation was over.

“Hey, wait,” Yoosung protested, jumping up from his position on the floor and sitting down next to Saeran on the couch. He took hold of the book and pulled it gently from Saeran’s grasp. “I want to talk about this.”

“I don’t,” Saeran said, watching as Yoosung folded the corner of his page so he didn’t lose his place. “You know I hate it when you do that.”

“Do what?” Yoosung asked in confusion, looking down at the folded page. “Oh, sorry.” He hastily flattened it out again and leaned over to the coffee table to grab hold of Saeran’s bookmark and put it in the book instead.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” Saeran folded his arms and cast his eyes to the side as Yoosung placed the book on the table.

“I don’t want to be nosy,” Yoosung told him, reaching out and taking hold of one of Saeran’s hands to pull his arms out of their defensive position. He cupped it in his hands and gently rubbed it. His skin was always so cold. “I just want to see if I can help.”

Saeran shook his head, but his defensiveness was gone. Now he just looked sad. “There’s nothing you can do.”

“Did you fall out?”

“There’s more to it than that,” Saeran told him with a sigh, reaching up and running his fingers through his hair nervously.

“Well… how long haven’t you spoken for?” Yoosung pressed desperately. He liked both Saeran and Saeyoung, and if there was any possible way he could help bring them back together, he wanted to do it.

“A… a really long time.” Saeran’s uncharacteristic stammer didn’t go unnoticed by Yoosung.

“How long?” he asked, more softly this time. Saeran was only 21 years old. How long could it possibly be? Maybe two or three years…

“Eleven years.”

“ _What?_ ” Yoosung couldn’t help his outburst, and he tightened his grip on Saeran’s hand. “Since you were _ten_?”

“He abandoned me,” Saeran looked down at their joined hands and bit his lip. He swallowed nervously before continuing in a small voice. “That’s all there is to it. I’ll never forgive him, and he’ll never forgive himself.”

“But… but isn’t that how long I’ve known you?” Yoosung asked in confusion. In all honesty, he couldn’t remember the exact age he’d been when he’d met Saeran. He just knew that they had lived in the same neighbourhood as children, and that he’d met Saeran at the park once when he had ‘run away’ from home and was crying next to the swing set over not being allowed his favourite sweets. Saeran had shown up all of a sudden, his red hair almost seeming to glow in the sun, and sat down next to Yoosung, offering him some of his ice cream. Yoosung had talked at him for a long time, but Saeran hadn’t said much in response. He seemed to appreciate the company, although Yoosung distinctly remembered an odd kind of disconnected sadness in his expression. Even so, his sharp green eyes had felt comforting, and he’d ended up encouraging Yoosung to go home and forgive his parents for being so outrageously unfair.

Yoosung didn’t know much about the specifics of Saeran’s childhood. Only that he was the battered and bruised boy who lived down the street. He hadn’t even realised he had a brother.

“Give or take,” Saeran answered with a shrug. “I don’t really remember.”

“Do you… do you remember the first time we met?” Yoosung asked in a small voice.

“Yeah. You were crying.”

Yoosung let out a small, sad laugh. “Yeah, guess I must have seemed pretty stupid, huh?”

Saeran shook his head. “Not really. I just wanted to help you.”

“Was that… was that before or after you fell out with your brother?”

“After,” Saeran said with certainty. “I remember. It was almost straight after.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I guess you could say you filled the hole he left.”

“Oh,” Yoosung felt his heart flutter. Saeran had always been there for him in times of need, and he was glad he had unknowingly been there for him too. “So… I’m like a brother to you?”

Saeran’s eyes flicked up to meet his before dropping back down to their hands. He didn’t say anything.

“I feel like I don’t know much about you,” Yoosung said suddenly. Even though he’d known Saeran for more than half his life, he realised they very rarely tended to talk about anything too far in the past.

“There isn’t much to know.”

“What’s the age difference between you and Saeyoung?”

Saeran looked up at him with a sharp glare before his expression softened again. “Do we have to talk about Saeyoung?”

“I just… I want to know.”

Saeran bit his lip. “Seven minutes.”

“What?”

“Seven minutes. He was born seven minutes before me.”

“You… you’re twins?” Yoosung’s head was spinning.

“Yeah. Identical.”

“Wow,” Yoosung breathed. “How did it take me so long to realise?”

Saeran shrugged. “Different personalities, I guess.”

Saeran was right. He and Saeyoung were very different. Saeyoung was often loud and joked around a lot. He enjoyed poking fun at Yoosung, and they played lots of fast-paced videogames together. Hanging out with him was always exciting. Saeran, on the other hand, was soft and quiet. He had an almost childlike innocence surrounding him, as evidenced when his eyes lit up at the sound of the ice cream truck whenever it passed by. He seemed… more peaceful than Saeyoung. His presence was soothing. But he was still fairly closed off, and his words were always straight to the point.

“Can you… can you tell me what happened with him?” Yoosung asked. “Why you fell out, I mean.”

Saeran sighed and looked to the side. Yoosung tightened his grip around his hand. “Our mother wasn’t a good mother,” he said. “It was always us against her. I got sick a lot as a kid, and one day she sent Saeyoung to go and buy some medication for me. I begged him not to go because I was scared of her. When he was gone, she…” Saeran gulped. “She hit me. A lot. It was… bad. I had to go to hospital.”

Yoosung gasped. He’d always figured Saeran had some kind of past that haunted him, but he hadn’t realised it would be _that_ bad.

“I never forgave him for leaving me,” Saeran shook his head.

“But… but he was trying to help?” Yoosung failed to understand why that had led to a falling out.

“There’s more to it than just that,” Saeran told him vaguely. “Maybe someday you’ll find out what it is.”

“Why don’t you talk to Saeyoung again?” Yoosung asked softly.

“I can’t,” Saeran shook his head adamantly, closing his eyes.

“Why not?”

“Because I _can’t_. We’re too different now.”

“But if you just-”

“No, Yoosung,” Saeran snapped, yanking his hand out of Yoosung’s and clutching him by the shoulders. His voice was angry but his eyes were filled with desperation as they bore into him. “You _can’t_ tell him about me. You can’t tell him you know me. _I mean it_ . If you tell him, it’ll ruin everything.” The sense of urgency that lay behind his anger shook Yoosung to the very core, and he had an overwhelming feeling that there was _so_ much more to these broken twins than he’d initially thought.

“Okay,” Yoosung squeaked, annoyed with how pathetic he sounded. “I-I’m sorry.”

Saeran sighed, his expression falling back into his regular neutral one, and his hands gently slid from Yoosung’s shoulders down his arms. Yoosung shivered at the feeling.

Maybe Yoosung should have left it. Maybe he shouldn’t have pushed any more, but all he wanted was for Saeran to be happy.

Maybe he wouldn’t have taken it any further if he weren’t so hopelessly in love with Saeran Choi.

 

**II. Saeyoung**

 

It was a regular Friday, and Yoosung was hanging out with Saeyoung as he usually did on Fridays. They had fallen into a routine of meeting at Yoosung’s house every week to play videogames and drink PhD Pepper, and honestly, Yoosung loved spending time with him. It didn’t quite compare to the quiet days he spent with Saeran, but it was a different kind of feeling altogether.

He remembered when he’d first met Saeyoung, he had been an absolute mess. It was Rika’s funeral, who up until now had been the most important person in his life. Saeyoung was the only person there who Yoosung had never met before, because the rest of the guests were family and friends he already knew. Saeyoung stood out from the crowd, and Yoosung suspected he would have even if it hadn’t been for his bright red hair. He had always had a strange aura, and Yoosung still hadn’t figured out what made him feel different. At the funeral, Yoosung had insisted he be allowed to make a speech. He wanted to say goodbye to Rika properly, and he felt like maybe this would give him some sense of closure. While Yoosung had been tripping over his words as he stood at the front of the room with the coffin next to him, his watery eyes had been drawn to Saeyoung for a reason he couldn’t understand. When he’d seen that head of red hair and his calming, golden eyes, he had sucked in a deep breath, wiped the tears from his cheeks, and managed to push himself through the rest of the speech.

Now he realised it was because he had reminded him of Saeran.

They had spoken briefly afterwards, although Yoosung couldn’t remember who had started the conversation. All he remembered was Saeyoung gently taking his hand and squeezing it, reassuring him that he would be okay. He remembered eleven words specifically.

_“You’ll never get over it, but you can still carry on.”_

The idea of bringing up the topic of Saeran to Saeyoung was one he’d resisted for so long, but it was bubbling closer and closer to the surface and he didn’t feel like he could push it down much longer. He didn’t want to blurt anything out and ruin his chances of getting to the bottom of this. He felt as though bringing it up directly would be a bad idea, so he decided to gently press Saeyoung with questions until he willingly told him himself. After all, if he and Saeran really did hate each other, chances are he wouldn’t get very far by instantly dropping the name of a twin he shouldn’t even know.

“Saeyoung?” Yoosung said his name carefully once they finished a round of the game they were playing.

“Hm?”

“I don’t really know much about your family.” He spoke slowly and watched Saeyoung closely for a reaction. He immediately noticed how Saeyoung tensed up.

“How about that.” His voice was flat and his expression unreadable. At least he wasn’t showing outright disgust like Saeran had, but it still seemed as though this would be difficult. He was being defensive.

“I was just wondering about them…”

“My mother’s an alcoholic and I don’t know my father,” he told him bluntly, as though reciting something he’d rehearsed. “That’s all there is to it.”

“Oh,” Yoosung blinked in surprise. “Um, what about siblings?”

Saeyoung tightened his grip on the controller.

“I had a brother.”

“Had?”

“Yeah. I don’t anymore.”

“Did you fall out?”

“I…” Saeyoung sighed and finally turned to look at him, pushing his glasses up his nose. “You could say that.”

“Is he… does he live around here?”

“No,” Saeyoung said with absolute certainty.

“Are you sure? Because I’ve seen someone-”

“Yoosung. No. He doesn’t live here,” Saeyoung interrupted.

“How do you know that for sure?”

“Because I _know_ , Yoosung.” Saeyoung’s jaw was clenched and his hands were shaking. “I don’t want to talk about him.”

“Why not?”

“Because I _don’t_ ,” he snapped. Yoosung flinched. Perhaps these wounds ran deeper than he’d thought. Saeyoung’s expression melted into one of guilt when he saw Yoosung flinch, and he reached out and put his hand on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I just don’t want to discuss this now.”

“Now? So we can soon?”

Saeyoung cast his eyes to the side. “Maybe.”

Yoosung felt like that was an empty promise, but he wanted to keep trying anyway.

“I just want to help,” Yoosung told him in a small voice. To his surprise, Saeyoung’s hand slid up from Yoosung’s shoulder to cup his jaw.

“I know, Yoosung,” he told him, his voice soft and his eyes gentle. He stroked Yoosung’s cheek with his thumb. “That’s what makes you so…” His sentence trailed off, and Yoosung’s breath caught in his throat. The way Saeyoung was looking at him was making his insides feel like jelly and his body flush through with heat.

“So… what?”

Saeyoung bit his lip and dropped his hand from Yoosung’s face, looking away. “Nothing.”

 

**III. Yoosung**

 

It’s been six months and this is all getting too much for Yoosung. The tension rolls off the twins every time he veers anywhere near bringing the other up, and he can’t handle it any longer. He just wants to know what happened and why they’re both being so difficult about it.

“Listen,” Yoosung says in frustration, slamming his controller down on the couch next to him as he turns to Saeyoung. “I don’t know what the hell happened between you and Saeran, but I want to help fix this.”

Saeyoung turns to him in shock, and Yoosung wonders if he crossed the line. He hasn’t said anything different to what he’d said before… has he? Saeyoung’s wide eyes and open mouth say otherwise.

“How do you know his name?” he asks in absolute confusion. He sounds slightly panicked.

“Because I _know_ him, Saeyoung,” Yoosung shakes his head in frustration, “I’ve _met_ him. We’re friends.”

Saeyoung stares at him for a moment, the air between them heavy. To Yoosung’s surprise, he lets out a sharp laugh.

“Wow. Really fucking nice, Yoosung.” He stands up and slams the controller down next to him. “If I wanted to be mocked I could’ve just gone to my fucking mother.”

That stung. “I’m not _mocking_ you!” Yoosung insists, jumping to his feet next to Saeyoung. Saeyoung grabs hold of the front of Yoosung’s shirt in his fist and yanks him closer.

“I don’t know what kind of fucking joke you’re pulling, but this is _not_ funny.”

Yoosung has never seen Saeyoung like this. His eyes are swimming with rage and he looks absolutely and utterly out of control.

“This isn’t a joke!” Yoosung grasps hold of Saeyoung’s wrist with both his hands to try and loosen his grip on his t-shirt. “You know me, Saeyoung! I wouldn’t joke about things like this. I just want to help.”

Saeyoung blinks, studying him closely, probably trying to figure out Yoosung’s motives. Yoosung can practically see his brain working behind his eyes. He lets go of Yoosung’s shirt, but his eyes are still cold.

“Prove it.”

“What?”

“ _Prove it_.”

Yoosung blinks at him for a moment before hesitantly reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. He starts scrolling through to find Saeran’s number so he can call him.

“You don’t need to,” comes a voice from behind him. He turns around to see Saeran standing there.

“How long have you been there?” Yoosung asks, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“Yoosung-”

Yoosung spins back around to face Saeyoung. The answer doesn’t matter right now. “There! I wasn’t lying!”

“Yoosung…” Saeran says again, and Yoosung watches as Saeyoung’s eyes flick to look behind him.

“I…” Saeyoung frowns. He looks confused. Why does he look confused? Is this not his brother?

“Yoosung,” Saeran says again, more firmly this time. Yoosung turns to look at him.

“What?”

Saeran looks worried. Scared, even. Yoosung frowns as he studies him. Is he an imposter? Has he been lying to him this entire time about who he really is? There’s no way… they’ve been friends since childhood. He couldn’t possibly fake his identity for so long.

“There’s no one there, Yoosung.”

Yoosung feels his entire body tense up as he stares directly at Saeran.

“What are you talking about? Saeran’s right there.” He holds up his hand and points to where he is in confusion. Saeran looks… sad. Yoosung jumps when he feels Saeyoung’s hand rest tentatively on his shoulder.

“There’s no one there,” Saeyoung says again, and Yoosung turns his head to look at him. He has tears in his eyes. He turns back to Saeran in confusion.

“What…?”

“Saeran died when we were ten,” Saeyoung tells him. Saeran’s eyes drop to the ground at the same time Yoosung’s stomach drops to the floor.

“What?” Yoosung exclaims. “Then how is he there?” He reaches up and holds out his hand. “How can I… touch him?”

He takes a step towards Saeran, shaking Saeyoung’s hand from his shoulder as he does. He stands just in front of him, holding out his hand. Saeran’s still refusing to meet his eyes. Yoosung feels his heart clench inside him.

“Hold my hand.”

“Yoosung, I-”

“Hold. My. Hand.” There’s a lump in Yoosung’s throat and he can feel tears in his eyes threatening to spill over. Is this some kind of prank? Surely it has to be.

Saeran’s mint green eyes snap up to look at him and he slowly reaches out his hand and places it in Yoosung’s. He can _feel_ the coldness of his skin. How would he be able to feel him if he weren’t real? Saeran carefully laces his fingers through Yoosung’s, and seems to sigh at the touch. Yoosung’s breath catches in his throat and he feels as though he’s on the verge of tears.

“But… how can I touch you if you’re not real?” As he says the words, his hand suddenly falls from the air as though Saeran’s had never even been there. He desperately reaches up to grab it again. He can _see_ it, but whenever he tries to touch it, his hand falls straight through. Like a nightmare. “S-Saeran?” he stammers, tears rolling freely down his cheeks.

“Yoosung, I think you-” Saeyoung says from behind him.

“No!” Yoosung screams. “No! Saeran’s _real_ ! He’s been my best friend since I was nine! He’s always been there for me!” He spins on his heel to face Saeyoung and jabs a finger into his chest. It’s solid. It’s real. Just like Saeran. “You’re pranking me, I know it. Well it’s _not funny_!”

“Yoosung, I promise I’m not pranking you,” Saeyoung tells him, gripping hold of his shoulders. Suddenly everything around him feels _too_ solid and real. Everything except Saeran. Reality is no longer slipping through his fingers. It’s hitting him right in the face.

“I was always there for you whenever you needed me,” a small, faraway voice says from behind him. Saeran steps around Yoosung to stand next to Saeyoung, and Yoosung can see through the tears in his eyes how similar they look. “That’s why I exist. To help you.”

“S-so, you _do_ exist?”

“Only in your head,” Saeran gulps. “I… I’m like a dream.”

“A… dream?” Yoosung stammers, eyes flicking from Saeran to Saeyoung. Saeyoung looks confused, biting his lip as though uncertain of how to respond to this entire situation. “But… but you’re a real person?” Yoosung looks to Saeyoung. “Saeran’s a real person, right? He’s your twin brother?”

“He was real,” Saeyoung tells him, and his voice is so strained that Yoosung can barely understand him. “He’s not… he’s not around anymore, though. He died in hospital when he was ten.”

“After your mother beat you when you were ill?” Yoosung turns back to Saeran in shock, and he feels Saeyoung tighten his grip on his shoulders.

“How do you know that?” Saeyoung snaps.

“Saeran told me,” he says, still staring at Saeran. He can barely see him through the tears. “If you’re a dream, how did you tell me that?”

Saeran presses his lips together. He doesn’t say anything.

“Yoosung, I don’t know how you know all this, and I don’t know what’s going on, but I-”

“No! I’m not crazy!” Yoosung shrieks, and Saeyoung flinches at the last word. “I _know_ he’s real!” He pulls back from Saeyoung and stumbles away from the twins, a feeling of hysteria building up inside him. He squeezes his eyes shut. “I love you, Saeran! I’m in love with you!”

There’s a ringing silence.

Yoosung opens his eyes to look at both the twins staring at him with identical expressions of shock. Yoosung would have laughed if he hadn’t been crying.

Saeran says “I’m not real” at the same time Saeyoung says “he’s not real.”

This time Yoosung does laugh, but it’s hysterical and unhinged. “So, what? I’m in love with _myself_ ? I’m in love with a _dream_?” He rushes over to Saeran and reaches out, but his hand falls right through him as it did before. “Let me kiss you. Be real for long enough for me to kiss you.”

“Yoosung, you can’t-”

Yoosung doesn’t even know which one of them is speaking anymore and he clutches his head in his hands desperately.

“I just want to kiss you! If this is a dream, then I want to kiss the boy I fell in love with before I wake up!”

Suddenly, a pair of arms are around him, holding him together. He clutches desperately onto the fabric of the t-shirt, and when he inhales, he can tell from the smell that it’s Saeyoung.

“S-Saeyoung,” he sobs. “Wh-what’s happening?”

“I don’t know, Yoosung,” he tells him in a soothing voice. Yoosung opens his eyes and looks over to Saeran. He’s standing there staring at them with a pained expression. The world is unravelling right before of Yoosung’s eyes, and Saeran is the only one affected.

“I didn’t know.” His words are simple but his expression is heavy. “I… I’m so sorry. If I’d known, I would have…” He casts his eyes aside and gulps. “I was here to help you… I was supposed to guide you and help you whenever you felt sad…”

“Yoosung.” That’s Saeyoung. Yoosung looks up at him. He hadn’t even realised they’d sunk to the floor. “I’m so sorry.”

But why is he sorry? He’s real.

“I’m sorry for not getting back to the house fast enough.” Yoosung notices now that he’s sobbing openly. “I’m sorry I left in the first place. I’m sorry Saeran’s dead but there’s nothing I can do to change it.” His voice cracks in his throat and his arms fall from around Yoosung, burying his face in his hands. Yoosung blinks at him and looks back at Saeran.

“Help him. He’s real,” Saeran says, tears rolling down his cheeks. “Tell him… tell him I forgive him.”

Yoosung gulps and watches as Saeran fades away into nothing. He chokes back a sob.

“Goodbye, Saeran,” Yoosung whispers to the empty air.

Eleven words echo through his head.

_“You’ll never get over it, but you can still carry on.”_

He never sees him again.

  



End file.
